She was an odd one. Admittedly he hadn't expected a Dalish elf of all things to appear and seal a rift before his very eyes. It had been during the chaos after the Conclave, he didn't think it would've even been possible to close them. She had supposedly walked out of the Fade as if it was the easiest thing in the world. But that was not what concerned him. In all honesty, he did not feel confident in her abilities. The way she carried herself seemed childish, sheltered even, it was clear to him that she had never seen war like this and her inexperience would cost them eventually. Cassandra had asked him not to be so harsh in his judgment as she genuinely wanted to help the inquisition and she had been more than competent on the missions she had been on thus far. The reports that he would read often had more than positive results, but they were always secondary accounts, he'd never directly read one written by the Herald herself. Everyone seemed to think highly of her even though she'd only been there for a few weeks now. Still though, he had to be cautious. She was a mage as well and he was never taught by the order how to handle Dalish mages or how they differed from those at the circle; she could know anything, he would have no way of knowing what kind of things she'd learn from her people.

As if the Maker had conjured her as punishment for his intense thoughts of her, Cullen had caught a glimpse of her as she exited the gates to Haven with Cassandra, Varric, and Dorian in tow. He was so distracted by his own duties he had nearly forgotten that today they were to journey to Redcliffe for the mages there. He disagreed about this plan, but he had been the only one that thought the templars would have been more reliable and a better choice all around. He felt it was absurd that she would allow herself to be used as bait, knowing that she is the only who could close the rifts. But of course she would do that, not even considering the danger to herself. There's bravery, and then there's foolishness.

He allowed himself a moment, stepping back from the sparring recruits he'd been watching. He casted his attention on the group preparing to depart. He studied her, the Herald, as he had done a few times before; Everything she did bewildered him.

The Herald had sashayed down the stone steps, she moved gracefully as if she were a doe in the wilderness. Her steps were elegant, but each one had purpose and her feet were always gentle when they met the ground beneath her. They were bare, aside from an anklet and a tattoo that ran the length of the side of her right foot. Cullen allowed himself to raise his gaze up to her waist. She wore a pair of dark, loose fitting trousers that were held up by what appeared to be a utility belt with several bags for salves and herbs attached. The belt was woven, likely a softer material than leather, but it seemed to do its job and he was relieved to see a small knife hooked to it as well. At least she had a way to defend herself if someone came too close.

"Sir." The voice of the recruit behind him wavered. He turned to see a report in the lad's hand. He took it from the recruit and with a nod he was dismissed. Rather than reading the report right then however he had been tempted to glance back at her. She was not where he saw her standing before but she had not gone far. She had seemingly wandered to the other side of the gate, the side closest to him. She was crouched, close to the ground and while the others packed their bags with essentials she was rummaging through the grass. He was befuddled, instinctually taking a step forward to get a better look. He furrowed his brows as he squinted, hoping that would enhance his view.

'She's… Oh Maker - of course she's picking flowers'. The thought lurched in his head as he watched in disbelief.

He could not resist the urge to roll his eyes. This was a serious situation, they were in the middle of a war, one of the worst he had ever seen. Hell, they were sending her straight into a trap. He had never seen such nonchalance in regards to one's own life. He refused to believe the possibility that she wasn't aware of the danger, she had to know. Flustered, he watched her as she secured a red poppy into her black, braided hair. It was a long, thick braid with several smaller braids interlacing it. Her hair was parted far to the side, the braid that graced her head was off to the left; the area behind her right ear and most of that side had been shaved, one of the braids that escaped her mane rested behind her ear. Cullen found it peculiar, but he assumed it was a Dalish thing. He didn't know a single woman who would've willingly shaved a section of her head. She suddenly turned to face her companions, she had been called upon by Varric who had some sort of inquiry. Although her attention was fully on Varric, he felt that the way she turned was intentional, as if she was showing off her elaborate braid to him. He saw that she had placed a second poppy just below the first. He followed the way her braid fell, not realizing just how long her hair was until it landed just below her bust. He took note of her cuirass, obviously it was of Dalish make. It was a light brown color, marked by a design of twisting vines. It hugged her figure as if it was a corset with thick shoulder straps. He felt warmth come to his cheeks as he noticed that the cuirass and trousers did not meet and a sliver of her midriff was exposed, he could even see the line of her hip bone as it disappeared underneath the loose fabric. It was at this point he concluded that he'd begun to leer at her rather than study and a wave of shame washed over him. He was a better man than that, he knew how to control himself but for the life of him, he could not explain why he'd been ogling her. He had no idea how long he had been staring at her for but he hoped that no one noticed his lewd behavior. He broke his gaze from her quickly, looking down at the report in his hand. She was alluring, he'd give her that.

With a final glance he raised his head to watch them take leave only to be jolted when his eyes connected with hers. He froze, caught off guard by this encounter. Despite how far apart they were her deep cerulean eyes seemed to peer into him, pulling him further into the gaze. He felt powerless to pull himself away. At first he thought magic was involved, as though she'd trapped him with a paralysis spell or something of that nature. He quickly realized that was not the case however and felt a pang of guilt for assuming her intentions were wicked. Perhaps it was chance, whatever it was he felt as though it had gone on for ages but it couldn't have been more than a minute or so. It was her who disrupted their connection, gracing him with the softest smile he'd ever received, as if it were meant to be a secret just for him. She turned away from him and sauntered off to rejoin her companions who were already on their way down the road. Cullen rubbed the nape of his neck and rested his eyes, relaxed now that he was free from her hold on him. He finally opened the report that felt like part of his hand at this point and began to read through it, hoping that it would distract him from the feeling their encounter had given him.